


Hooked on a Feeling

by bluejorts



Category: Sense8 (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/pseuds/bluejorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean dreamed up some chick shooting herself in the face he dismissed it as weird. Then when people started appearing from nowhere he was forced to face the reality of what exactly it was that the dream had meant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pastelbees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastelbees/gifts).



> Posting this for Angel because I love her and it's Christmas and she's a MASSIVE nerd.

Gabriel Milton was a fuckup, he knew that. He knew it, his dad knew it, his brothers knew it, hell; even his dog knew it.

He had more tattoos than Iggy Azelea had brain cells (which, granted, wasn't exactly hard), more artificial holes in his body than real ones, and if he wasn't high he wasn't awake.

But he wasn't that much of a fuckup that he had hallucinations of people shooting themselves in the fucking face. Which was, funnily enough, what had just happened to him.

"Are you telling me that didn't just happen to you?" He asked Ash, his best friend and partner in crime.

"Uh, no? Dude are you mixing your meds?"

"No! Of course I'm not. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

Ash raised a eyebrow and nodded.

"Hey fuck you." Gabriel pouted, punching his friend in the shoulder.

"Dude I was kidding! You probably just had a real bad high or something."

"I hadn't taken anything other than asprin, ass."

Ash gave him a look. "Bullshit." He stated.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and shrugged one shoulder. "Okay an asprin and one blunt - but that hardly counts!"

Ash shrugged. "Maybe you just had a really fucked up dream then."

A woman that had just walked into the antique book store they worked in coughed and glared. Ash merely waved her off, didn't even glance at her. She scoffed and hobbled away into the maze of haphazardly stacked shelves.

Gabriel and Ash were the store's only employees. The place's owner was an old white man with greying dreadlocks and a ton of money that he spent mainly on pot and an extended vacation to fuck knows where. He'd been gone for about two years, leaving occasional voice-mails telling the employees that he was alive and had paid the bills and that Margery from the bakery across the street made brilliant hash brownies (he said that every time, and it continued to be true).

The store itself was in one of the middling areas of south London, old and slightly tired looking among the other shops on the street. The one window viewing the cobblestone street was a bay window, with a steel enforced frame so as to keep people from breaking it (the panes were broken every other week but they were a dime a dozen and there was no real threat to anything inside when they broke). The inside of the building was just as old looking as the outside, which Ash was adamant added to the antique feel but Gabriel thought just meant he couldn't be fucked to tidy or dust. There were tons of books, metric tons. Books on fuck knows what sorted into piles of 'things people have looked at recently' and 'things people don't give a fuck about'. Somewhere in the back of the store there was a shelf that was properly sorted, but it was a shelf of things people _really_ didn't give a fuck about.

"Look, I'm telling you it was a vision. Your aunt believes all that spiritual, hocus pocus, _That's So Raven_ crap, doesn't she? Can you call her or something?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Ash mimed opening a flip phone. "'Uh, hey Aunt D, how's death treatin' you? Great! Oh, my mate Gabe wants to know what it means if he sees a vision of someone getting shot in the face. What? It means I should shoot him in the face? Gee Aunt D, thanks for your help!' That good enough for you?" He shut the imaginary phone and mimed shooting Gabriel in the face.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pushed Ash's hand away from his face. "I didn't know she was dead!" He exclaimed. "You never tell me these things!"

"Dude, she got hit by a train searching the tunnels at Kings Cross for platform thirteen."

"Platform thirteen?"

"Apparently there's a door to a secret island or some shit in the guys toilets. Fuckin' Eva Ibbotson or some shit." Ash sighed.

"Well that sucks... You know any other psychics?"

"For the love of God, Gabriel." Ash groaned. He grabbed a pen from the counter and threw it at his friend.

At 300, E Street SW, Washington, DC, a pen hit the wall beside Charlie Bradbury's computer and she flinched. She pulled her headphones from her ears and glared behind her, seeking the culprit. Nobody was even facing her, so she turned back to the table and searched out the offending pen. Okay, that was weird, there was nothing out of place on her desk. Her Hermione Granger bobble head stood proud on top of the computer tower, her pen pot was still completely empty of anything but candy and tampons, her monitor was still covered in stickers that even NASA was gonna have a hard time scraping off when she left. There was not a pen in sight.

Garth, in the cubicle next to hers, rolled his chair backwards, managing to stop himself literally just before he hit someone trying to walk down the aisle "Sorry man. Hey, C, wanna hit Olive Garden with us?" He grinned at her. Garth was like a half grown Labrador, he had long, gangling limbs that he didn't seem able to control, and everything around him ended up broken or tangled or in some state of disarray.

Charlie glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. "Yeah, sure. Can I call Jo? See if she wants to come."

"Heck, of course!" Garth beamed.

"Nice. See you outside in ten?"

"Awesome! I'll go see if Tessa's in!" He jumped from his chair, forcing it backwards. The man in the cubicle opposite put a hand out to stop it without even looking. "Gosh, sorry." He grabbed the chair from the guy and put it back in place before blundering down the aisle.

"For a guy that short, he sure does take up a lot of space." The girl next to her whistled.

"You're telling me." She grinned, turning to face - what the fuck? The person she was looking at was definitely not the small, mousy girl she'd had a cubicle next to for the bast two years. For starters they were presumably a man. They had a mullet, and Charlie thought she must be seeing ghosts because nobody had a hairstyle that bad in the twenty first century. Their eyes were lined with navy blue and they were rolling them, smiling. And oh dear God they were wearing double denim, if they weren't a ghost then they seriously needed to consider realigning themselves with the twenty first century. A denim cutoff shirt and jeans of a darker denim rolled up at the ankles, paired with a pair of black plimsolls. Their arms were heavily tattooed and at least five rings shone in their ears.

"Uh, hello? Earth to Charlie?" Charlie blinked and it was Emma again, the small, rosy cheeked, very much not tattooed girl that had always been there. "You alright? You look kinda spooked?"

"Nah, I'm - I'm fine. I just, I'm gonna go call Jo." Charlie nodded to herself. She could feel the lack of blood in her face, but with how pale she was anyway she probably didn't look too different. She got up and was walking towards the door before she'd realised her feet were moving. The moment she got outside she pulled her phone out of her pocket and was ringing Jo.

"Hey Red." Jo chimed through the phone, bringing her slightly to Earth.

"Hey."

"What's the matter? You sound distracted."

A small smile reached Charlie's lips, that she could tell that from just one word wasn't a surprise to her, Jo knew her better than anyone. They'd met in their first year of college, Charlie had been on the phone with her friend, standing outside the lecture she was meant to be attending in five minutes, trying to end an argument they were having about Firefly and whether or not it should have ended. Jo had butted in to yell at her friend that 'no way should it have ended' and that 'Serenity was awful are you fucking kidding me the ending made me want to stab myself in the brain with a pair of scissors man, I'm hanging up now.' Charlie was pretty sure she fell in love instantly. She asked Jo to get coffee with her after the lecture, to which Jo grinned and agreed. They spent the afternoon talking about sci-fi and Jo's knife collection and Charlie had kissed her when she told her that nine was her favourite Doctor and it had tasted like cinnamon and vanilla and a warm fire on a cold Winter evening.

"I'll tell you later, I'm not sure what's going on. You wanna meet me and G for lunch?"

"Yeah, sure, give me five. Olive Garden?"

"Where else?"

Jo laughed. "Okay, see you then, love you."

"Love you too." Charlie grinned, still giddy at the words even after three years of being together.

She signed out and grabbed her bag from her desk, then met Garth and Tessa. Tessa was a short woman with piercing blue eyes and a strange infatuation with death. Garth, being Garth, didn't seem bothered by her obsession, even when Charlie was.

"Hey! You ready to go?" He beamed.

"Yep. Taxi?"

"Garth just called." Tessa told her, pulling her into a hug of greetings. "How are you?" She asked, pulling away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What about you? How did things go on that date last week?"

Tessa's face fell. "Yeah, not exactly."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe over lunch."

"Hey, there's the taxi!"Garth cheered, as per usual completely oblivious of any negative emotions. Charlie squeezed Tessa's arm and grabbed Garth before he could fall over his own feet and they piled into the cab.   
  



	2. You're Hot and You're Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *starts singing katy perry*

Sam fucking loved his job. He loved skating, loved being able to move so gracefully and so effortlessly, loved the sport he played, being able to do it for a living was incredible. He'd been playing Hockey since he was a kid, it was Canada after all. He'd been the star player on his high school's team, got them second place three years in a row in the league, first once. He'd known it was what he wanted to do for a living the minute he'd learned he could.

He was skating lazy laps around the rink, waiting for the rest of the team to get there, when he saw a flash of pink and beige.

He stopped himself and spun around with all the grace of a dancer. That was weird, he could have sworn there had been someone there. A shiver ran down his spine that wasn't from the cold and the dream he'd had the night before came back to him. The woman that had died right in front of him leaving him feeling like an orphan, the woman that he felt more love from in a moment than he had ever felt towards his real mother.

"Puppy! What you doing here already?" A voice echoed through the rink, startling Sam.

"Hey Fox, man." Sam grinned. Mick 'Fox' Halse was a slim, ginger man who played in defence. His style was clunky, quick but not graceful. Doubtful that it could even be called a style, but it worked. "Woke up early; couldn't get back to sleep, so I came out here."

"Insomnia again?" Des asked, joining his teammates on the ice, breath fogging in front of the concerned expression on his face. Des was a level headed, caring mixed race man with soft, green eyes and a slightly down turned mouth that gave him a permanently concerned expression.

Sam shrugged him off. "Nothing that'll effect my playing." He dismissed. Truth be told, though last night's sleeplessness was caused by a nightmare, he hadn't slept properly in weeks. It was really fucking annoying, Sam wished his insomnia was a person so that he could stab it in the face, or balls, either worked.

"If that's the case, Pup, lets see what you've got this fine morning." Marcus grinned, skating fast circles around his team. Mars played forwards, with Sam and Alec. 

They worked together incredibly well, Mars pushing through the opposition with ease,  Alec practically dancing to collect the puck when Mars sent it hurtling in his direction, Sam filling in the gaps. When put against each other it was carnage. They knew each other's movements too well to let anything slide, even faux passes. They resorted to pure, brute force. Both were as strong as each other, and dirty moves were attempted, Sam's more often working. He did have an advantage there, not one that he'd ever brag about, but an advantage all the same. 

The puck skidded and clattered between them, the hall filled with the sounds of sticks hitting ice and rubber and the other eighteen men cheering and jeering. Nobody ever really seemed to be cheering for anyone in particular, because nobody was assured to win on any one occasion. Sam feigned left and his shot was blocked by Mars' stick just in time. Mars attempted to whack the puck between Sam's legs, not so accidentally brushing his calf with his stick. 

 _Buddy, you are gonna get that right back and far more painful_ Sam thought, a slight smirk dancing over his lips.

He was, as always, too quick, he stopped the puck with his foot and immediately span with it, taking it down the rink and away from the goal he was aiming for. Mars followed, keeping slightly inside, hoping to take Sam over before he circled back up. Sam pulled in close to the rest of the team, keeping the puck under his control perfectly, and Mars was forced to move to Sam's outside. Sam took this chance to speed the hell up and whack the puck in front of him. He wasn't fully in control (but that was a summary of his life, he was used to it by now), yet he managed to catch the puck up and straighten it's course towards the goal. Mars, he suspected, had given up by now, and was probably jeering at him from among their team mates. The puck hit the back of the goal with a high pitched thud and Sam whisked around to bow. The team was cheering and jostling a laughing Mars about. Sam skated gracefully back towards them and pulled him in for a short bro hug. 

"Nice try, fucker." He grinned. Mars laughed again and shoved him backwards, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." He chuckled. The men all laughed with him, high fiving each other as if they'd all just won a big game, until they spotted the coach walking across the ice to them and skated over to the benches. 

"Right. Today we're gonna-" Chuck was cut off. 

Or rather Chuck was gone. He was in a slightly run down looking hospital room, a tanned white man of about Sam's age was squatting next to a skinny, wrinkled man with skin the colour of dark chocolate and teeth that were so bright they reflected the sun when he smiled at the other man. He lay on a bed low to the ground, similar people in similar beds around him. Sam looked around. The room was small and the windows were just mesh. Sam was sweltering, sweat already appearing on his brow. He looked back at the white man, the only white man in the room.

Okay. This was slightly fucking weird. 

"Hello?" He coughed, voice breaking slightly. Nobody in the room seemed to notice him, nobody except the white man. He looked up with startled green eyes and more freckles than anyone Sam had ever seen. He wore a white coat and 

"Uh, hey? Who are you?" The man asked, confusion filling his face. 

"I - uh, I'm Sam? Where am I? Who are _you_?" Sam asked. The people in the beds were looking at the white man in confusion. 

"I'm Dean, you're in Muusini?" The man squinted at him. "Kenya? Are you okay? How did you get here?" 

"I? I don't know?" Sam told him. 

The man in the cot closest to Dean asked him a question in a language Sam didn't know. The man responded, in the same language, gesturing to Sam. The man's brows furrowed, confused, and Dean's expression became the same. He was talking quickly, almost desperately, gesturing to Sam and seemingly demanding something. 

"Why can't you see him?" He asked, frustrated, slipping back into English. He stormed over to Sam and grabbed him by the arm. He held him for a moment, and then Sam was back on the hockey rink and Chuck was continuing talking. Sam shivered, adjusting from the heat to the cold. 

Okay, what the _fuck_.


End file.
